


Confession

by Devereauxs_Disease



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: And mom and dad, Apparently I was super resentful about all the masses my parents took me to, Just Fuck Me Up fest, M/M, Sorry Jesus, because this is just ridiculous, inexcusable porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 09:17:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11181684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: Hannibal decides to play priest. He steals a cassock and sneaks into a confessional. The first confession he hears is from a snarky empath who has some blasphemous ideas...ORThe continuing adventures of the Murder Husbands and the voyeur nun.





	Confession

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my fic [Sacrament ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10184579), but you don't need to have read it to know what's going on.

        Will had been against the idea of returning to the Aachen Cathedral, but the temptation was too great for Hannibal. The look in the nun’s eyes as he desecrated the church, Will’s cock in his mouth and a prayer on his lips, had been intriguing. The chance to hear her confess, to admit how beautiful she found such a sinful act, it drew him from his bed in the early hours and back toward the first morning mass.

         Will had rolled over in bed, muttering _if last night didn’t tire you out, maybe you do need Jesus_ and waved Hannibal off. He left his love with a kiss on the shoulder and a spring in his step. Today, he’d be privy to all sorts of sins and he couldn’t wait to offer advice.

         Stealing a cassock was a relatively simple task. The priest had very congenially offered to counsel him on his marital troubles in his private quarters, before mass. Hannibal bashed the father’s head into a wall beside an ominous gothic crucifix, before tenderly catching the limp body in his arms. He took a moment to arrange the priest, enjoying the image of himself as the holy virgin in this version of the pietà. Before long, he grew bored, and began stripping the priest, noting the ugly cotton undergarments he worse and making a note to inform Will that there was another career option out there for men who liked boring clothes and poly-blends.

         Buttoned into the cassock, Hannibal took a moment to glance around the priest’s quarters as he adjusted his collar. The room was bare, as if you had to give up yourself to truly serve god. Once again, Hannibal felt the need to admire a deity so cruel as to deny their most devoted followers all the pleasures of life. He found a rosary on the dresser, olive wood beads made shiny through years of worrying between fingers. The idea that the strand of beads contained all the sins of this man, rubbed deep into the grain of the wood, enchanted Hannibal. He looped the rosary around his hand and quietly moved to take his place in mass.

         He spotted the nun halfway through the ceremony. She was staring at him with wide eyes, a flush on her cheeks. When it was time for him to take his place at the confessional, he winked at her, an invitation for the little novice to follow him.

         The confessional was ornate on the outside, but spartan in its interior. Again, Hannibal marveled at a god who would not even allow his representation on earth a cushion to sit upon. Perhaps the delicious ability to pry back a person’s protection and hear their most shameful secrets was reward enough for a follower of god. He smiled when he heard the confessional curtain open and the noise of a body settling onto the uncomfortable bench.

         Hannibal slid the wood to the side, revealing a lattice, he could see little of the nun, but that would not hinder his enjoyment of her words. “The Lord be in your heart and upon your lips that you may truly and humbly confess your sins: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

         "Forgive me father, for I have sinned.” Hannibal tilted his head. This was not the voice of a nun. It was the voice of a man. A man who had been sound asleep in their bed when Hannibal left him. “It's been 37 years since my last confession."

         Hannibal grinned, this game was proving to be far more fun than expected. "That is quite some time, my child; I'm not sure we have enough time for you to recount all your transgressions."

         A snort from the other side of the wrought iron.

         "I'll stick to the highlights, Padre."

         "Very well. What are your sins, my child?"

         "Well, there's murder, and cannibalism, and if you listen to some people it’s an absolute abomination unto god that I leave my socks on the coffee table.” Hannibal rolled his eyes. “But I think the more pressing problem is all the impure thoughts I'm plagued with."

         "Impurity is a liminal concept when defined by man or god. One entity’s impurity could be another’s divinity. If one looks at the classical def-"

         “These thoughts are pretty fucking dirty.”

         “I’ll account for your vulgarity when weighing your sins.” Hannibal traced the intricate iron grid keeping him from a dashing smile and blue eyes. He imagined he could feel breath against the pad of his fingers.

         “What the hell, run me a tab.”

         “I shall.” Hannibal settled back in his seat, adopting the therapist voice he knew annoyed Will. “Now, I believe you were going to tell me all about your impure thoughts.”

         "Yes, you see I live with this man, father. He's a terrible man."

         Hannibal smiled in the darkness of the confessional. "Indeed?"

         "Oh yeah. He's a killer, a narcissist, a sadist, and he always hogs the covers"

         "I see."

         "His feet are always cold. His outfits are ridiculous. There’s gotta be a sin about dressing like that. Vanity? Maybe pride? You should see how many ascots he has-"

         "Yes, I get the point."

         "Ok, well I've learned to live with all that, father. Hell, I’ve even gotten used to eating human flesh – he has this recipe for pectoral tacos that you wouldn’t believe.” Will took a moment to fight the laughter building in his voice. Hannibal waited for the punchline, idly thumbing at his rosary. “But the problem, the thing that I just can’t live with is his mouth."

         "His mouth?" Hannibal’s nail caught on the crucifix, he worried a grove under Christ’s feet.

         "Yeah. He's got this beautiful fucking mouth, with this full, sneering upper lip.” Will’s voice had lowered, the tone going deep and rough. “He curls it whenever he doesn't like what I'm wearing or I don't conjugate my verbs properly. This little lift and snarl that wrinkles his nose."

         "And you find that very mild facial affectation to be distasteful..."

         "Oh no, father, it's the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen.” Hannibal sat up, letting the cross slip from his fingers. “That full pouty mouth curling up, just begging for a cock. Every time he lifts his lip at me, the only thing I can think of is knocking him to his knees and shoving-"

         "Will." Hannibal’s fingers were at the grate again, pressing until the iron bit into the tips.

         "WHOA THERE, this confession is supposed to be anonymous, padre.” Hannibal felt something warm and wet against his desperate fingers. Will’s voice was closer, now. Thicker. “Now, you just shut up and let me tell the lord about my thoughts."

         “Please, continue.”

         Hannibal could catch the wafting scent of Will’s arousal, tobacco leaves and cedar. He pressed his face against the lattice to inhale more.

         “Ok, like I was saying, he’s begging for it, I’m just not sure he knows he is. Every time I see that little curl in his mouth, I know what he wants. He’s testing me. Seeing if I’ll knock him to the ground and fill him up. It gets so bad I can’t focus. I’m supposed to be chiffonading basil, whatever the fuck that means, and I can just feel him snarling at my technique. It’s all I can do not to press that knife to his throat and fuck his face until he stops.”

         Hannibal made a small noise, gripping the rosary tight in his hand.

         “You ok there, father?”

         “I’m quite well. Please continue.”

         “I just seem to have this compulsion, to see him covered in come. That’s probably a sin, right? Torn clothes, bloody bite marks, streaked with white.”

         “And you find that sinful because you think your partner would be opposed to this?”

         “Oh, I know he wouldn’t. That’s the best part. For all his haughty bullshit and fancy ways, he’s a little whore. Any time I raise an eyebrow he’s hard for me. You should see what a little slut he is when I start giving him orders.”

         Hannibal felt the iron digging into his face as he pressed closer to the sound of Will’s voice. “So, you would like me to counsel you away from these thoughts? Perhaps give you advice on how to help your companion suppress his sinful nature?”

         “Nope.” Will popped the _P_ in the word, his voice lowering to a whisper. Hannibal could feel the breath on his cheek, picturing Will’s lips so close to the grate. “I just wanted to brag, honestly.”

         The curtain pulled back and Will squinted at the dark form haloed in light. “Aren’t you supposed to stay on the other side of this thing?”

         Hannibal stepped inside, looming over Will. “It’s time for your penance, my child. Vanity and pride are very serious sins.”

         “There’s no room-” Will tried to gesture to the cramped quarters, but his wrist was caught and he was yanked up to face Hannibal.

         “There is always room for sinners in the house of the lord,” Hannibal whispered, turning Will abruptly and pulling him onto his lap as he sat on the hard, wooden bench. Will squirmed, wriggling against Hannibal’s erection as he was tugged into position – legs splayed over Hannibal’s parted thighs, back against Hannibal’s heaving chest. “Now, I believe we must speak on forgiveness for your transgressions.”

         Hannibal ran a hand down the front of Will’s shirt, dipping low to rub at his cock. Will choked on air, gasping as he rolled his hips. “Oh, oh god.”

         “Yes, indeed.” Will could hear the smile in Hannibal’s voice. The hand on Will’s groin tightened, forcing the empath back onto Hannibal’s jutting cock. “Oh god, what do you think the penalty should be for such a wanton little whore, like Will? A man so weak to the pleasures of the flesh, he defiles even your most sacred of spaces with his filthy thoughts and unclean flesh.”

         Will lurched forward, grappling for he knew not what. Hannibal’s hand shot from Will’s clothed cock to his throat, forcing Will to drape himself across Hannibal’s chest and shoulder. Will kept rolling his hips, seeking friction from the humid air around him.

         “Even now, you fight your redemption,” Hannibal whispered, his lips barely touching Will’s earlobe. “Don’t you want redemption Will? I seem to recall you spent quite a few years chasing it.”

         “I- I want,” Will was struggling; the air felt thick when he tried to inhale it. “I want resurrection.”

         “If you want to be reborn, first we must consecrate the flesh, don’t you think?” Hannibal’s free hand snaked around Will’s waist, flicking open each button in Will’s jeans with a sharp snap of his wrist. Reaching inside Will’s jeans, Hannibal carefully traced the straining flesh fighting cotton boxers. “To consecrate, we must purge you of your sin. Are you ready to beg God’s forgiveness, Will?”

         Hannibal’s hand was still around his throat. Will leaned into the grip, his cock twitching as his air thinned. “Please, father, save my soul.”

         Hannibal pulled at the waistband of Will’s boxers, carefully tucking the bit of elastic beneath Will’s balls, presenting the empath’s cock to god and himself. “I think a Hail Mary to start, don’t you?”

          Hannibal ran a finger along Will’s cock, letting his nail lightly catch the frenulum on his way to the weeping head. Will whimpered, letting his head fall back on Hannibal’s shoulder.

         “I- I don’t remember.”

         “That’s why I’m here, my child, to help you find penance.” Something cool and hard wrapped around Will’s prick, causing him to jerk. Hannibal loosened the grip on Will’s neck, allowing him to watch as the doctor wrapped the burnished olive wood beads of a rosary around his cock. “Now be a good boy, Will, and repeat after me: Hail Mary, full of grace.”

         “H-Hail m-unh, Mary full of grace,” Will’s thighs shook. Hannibal encircled Will’s cock with loose fingers, rolling the beads softly along his shaft.

         “Our Lord is with thee.” Hannibal turned his head into Will’s neck, murmuring the prayer into Will’s pulsing carotid.

         “Our Lord is w-with t-t-thee.” Will felt delirious. Hannibal’s grip remained loose, but he increased his speed, using his thumb to press the wood of the crucifix under the tip of Will’s cock.

         “Blessed art thou among women.”

         “B-blessed art t-thou w-with women.”

         “ _Among_ women.” Hannibal’s grip tightened fractionally; Will could feel himself dripping onto the beads as they rolled.

         “A-among w-women.” Will could feel Hannibal’s teeth at his neck; his cock throbbed.

         “And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.” Hannibal thumbed at Will’s weeping slit, fingers still rolling the rosary at a maddening pace.

         “Oh, please, please H-hannibal.”

         “You may pray to me later, Will, right now we’re asking God for forgiveness.” Hannibal increased his grip and Will saw stars. “Continue.”

         “B-blessed is the fruit of t-thy w-womb, _Jesus Christ_ ,” Will’s head was rocking from side to side on Hannibal’s shoulder, his thighs clenching as he tried to fuck up into Hannibal’s hand.

         “Holy Mary, Mother of God,” Hannibal’s voice was maddeningly calm, instructional as he laid Will bare on his favorite altar.

         “Holymarymotherofgod,” Will was close, his whole body a live wire as Hannibal continued.

         “Pray for us sinners.”

         “P-ray for u-u-ussss sinners.”

         “Now, and at the hour of our death.”

         “Now and at the hour of our d-” Hannibal bit into the join of Will’s neck and shoulder. Will came with a choked cry, thick ropes of come landing on the small cushion for genuflectors and the ancient walls of the confessional. He gasped, laying limp in Hannibal’s arms as the doctor used his cassock to carefully wipe Will clean before tucking him away.

         “Amen.” Hannibal pressed a kiss into the wound on Will’s neck, tucking the smaller man to his chest. “Do you feel reborn, Will? Free of sin?”

         “I do. I’m purged of my demons and ready for the eucharist, father Lecter.” Will turned to Hannibal, sucking on the doctor’s upper lip as he shivered.

         “Hmmmm, would you be willing to accept the host into your body, now that you’ve been cleansed?”

         Will smiled, rubbing his ass firmly against Hannibal’s erection before sliding to the floor. It took a few minutes of maneuvering to kneel between Hannibal’s legs, his feet were sticking out under the confessional curtain, but he had a feeling that Hannibal rather enjoyed the image they must make.

         With slow fingers, Will rolled up the cassock, eyes never leaving Hannibal’s as his fingers traced bare skin. He wondered where Hannibal had left his pants, briefly picturing a priest examining a pair of YSL custom slacks left in the donations box. When Will finally pulled the stiff wool material up, he grinned at the rigid flesh of Hannibal’s cock. Pearls of precome welled from the tip, catching in the doctor’s foreskin and making the slick ruddy flesh shine.

         Will blew softly across the slit, satisfied when it jerked at the hint of the attention to come.

         “I am the bread of life,” Hannibal’s voice was tight, his hands holding the cassock up. “Whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.”

         “Good to know,” Will said, dipping his head to languidly lick along Hannibal’s shaft.

         “I am the bread of life. Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, yet they died. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever.” Will hummed as Hannibal continued reciting, enjoying the hitches in Hannibal’s breath at his attention. Sucking at the foreskin for a moment, Will used his lips to push it back before suckling the engorged head.

         “A-and this bread, which I will give for the life of the world, is my- _ah Will!_ ”

         Will rocked back on his knees, smiling as he let his lips brush against Hannibal’s cock. “ _Is my Will?_ I don’t think that’s how the verse goes, father.”

         “It depends on who you’re praying to.” Hannibal looked drunk, watching Will with glassy eyes as the empath let his tongue trace the thick vein that curved from the base of Hannibal’s cock.

         Will bobbed his head, sucking down Hannibal until his nose pressed into the stiff material of the cassock. He let Hannibal slip into his throat, swallowing around the intrusion until he heard the high-pitched whine Hannibal made whenever he was lost to pleasure.

         Pulling off Hannibal with a pop, Will smiled at the small sound of loss the doctor made. “And who are you praying to, father Lecter?”

         Strong fingers threaded into Will’s hair, tugging it just enough to spike something cruel and insatiable in Will’s stomach. “You, Will. I will always pray to you.”

         “Then let me hear you,” Will sank his mouth back over Hannibal’s cock, rolling his tongue as he descended. Will could taste the desperation rolling down the back of his throat is large drops; it wouldn’t be long.

         “My beautiful boy,” Hannibal sounded frantic. Will loved the breathy voice and the fingernails digging into his scalp. “Who but you d-deserves my worship? You defile me and anoint me. How could I ask for a more glorious being to worship?”

         Will pulled his lips back, allowing his teeth to drag over Hannibal’s cock. The threat of torn flesh always pushed Hannibal over the precipice. The doctor’s fingers yanked at Will’s scalp as he came in great gushing spurts. Will pulled back, using his tongue to rub at Hannibal’s still-spasming cock and allowing the last drippings to slick his lips.

         He raised his eyes to Hannibal’s, affecting an innocent, sweet expression. The sight of wide blue eyes, filled with adoration and come-stained lips was nearly too much for the older man, who moaned softly as he let his fingers trace down Will’s cheeks.  

         Hannibal ran his thumb across Will’s swollen lower lip, gathering the last drops of come and spit from Will’s panting mouth. Leaving his hand to cradle Will’s face, Hannibal raised his thumb to draw the sign of the cross along Will’s smooth brow.

         Will laughed, eyes bright. “Am I reborn in his image?”

         Hannibal pulled Will up, crushing their mouths together. “No, darling boy, in mine.”

         “Even better,” Will bit at Hannibal’s jaw. “Come home, you’ve heard your confession for the day.”

         “I admit, I feel very close to god in this moment.”

         “As do I, which reminds me, keep the rosary.”

         Hannibal grinned, pulling back the confessional curtain. Inches outside the doorway was the young novice, blushing furiously, and staring at the men with glassy eyes. She bit her lip and stepped forward, tugging Hannibal to her by the sleeve and whispering in his ear. Will watched as Hannibal smiled slowly at the young woman’s rapid-fire German.

         Turning to Will, Hannibal raised a brow. “Apparently, Father Gerhard has woken up and the authorities have been called. Sister Hildegard suggests we venture behind the altar to the catacombs. The main passage will take us near Archäologische Vitrine. She will tell the authorities that we’ve fled from the main entrance.”

         Will looked at the sister, who ducked from his smile and turned a deeper shade of red. He stepped forward, letting his thumb gently trace her bottom lip. “Danke.”

         She offered a small wave as the two fled behind the altar.


End file.
